


Tippu's Tiger

by Next_Please



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), TailSpin - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 21:31:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16026359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Next_Please/pseuds/Next_Please
Summary: It was an easy assignment. Retrieve a stolen artifact and raid the buffet while doing it. Sadly life is never so simple for Scrooge McDuck.





	Tippu's Tiger

“So,” Scrooge McDuck asked with the voice of a man who was quite aware his tone made him sound like an infant but was old enough to tell social etiquette where it could sit it’s obnoxious behind while the grown-ups were busy talking, thank you very much. “Why exactly are we inviting him of all people on this outing of ours, anyway?” 

He hid a tiny smile of amusement when he heard his housekeeper’s replying sigh of annoyance from her position by the doorway. That brief expulsion of air from her lungs bore the weight of a woman tasked with the misfortune of over a decades worth of dealing with a man who believed social niceties were beneath him on account of being old and insanely rich. 

Bentina Beakley was standing at ease, hands clasped behind her back, patiently accompanying her employer while he packed. 

Scrooge himself was currently sitting on his own bed, feet dangling listlessly off his mattress. His bedspread was littered with a few lifetime’s worth of different custom tailored outfits. At present, he was busy examining an undershirt with a critical eye. He would be on a blimp, and he could use a few to keep himself warm. His signature red overcoat was bulky enough to allow him to wear thermal clothing under his formal dress if the weather took a turn for the worst. He owned several nearly identical suits of the type, each having been modeled after the old rich gents he’d so envied as a small boy. Tragically he was only permitted one suit of it’s kind, and he was searching for the worst of the lot…provided it could be mended, of course. Over a century’s worth of interactions with people had taught him that a responsible adult simply could not be seen wearing the same outfit, even if it could be proven the suit wasn’t the exact same one you’d worn earlier that week. Provided you cared about people besides yourself, that is. To be ‘Wealthy’ often meant your colleagues blamed others, especially servants, for your faults. His “colleagues” would cluck their tongues over the antics of Duckberg’s local wealthy eccentric Scrooge McDuck and claim his housekeeper was by all appearances not enough to save the poor doddering old adventurer from his own peculiarities. That, since the death of Duckworth, his dear Butler, and personal valet, he hadn’t been properly attended as a man of his prestige deserved. After all the Elites of his class styled themselves according to a certain unspoken dress code when mingling among themselves and apparently his personal preferences went against the grain. 

He hardly cared. 

Most of them were so heavily inbred he’d distressingly wondered if they’d brought their children up knowing which of their cousins they could legally date. Besides, there were far too many rules guiding the lives of rich and powerful in his opinion, and he didn’t have time to observe which layer of a multi-tier tea platter he was permitted to pick at first before getting to the one item on the damn thing he craved. If he wanted something from a tea tray, he’d take his fill of that and leave whatever it was that he didn’t want. If that bothered anyone then clearly they needed to find something worthwhile to occupy their time. If he didn’t have Beakley to lecture him into submission and the promise that his bill from the tailors would be tax deductible he wasn’t sure he’d have put in the effort to drag out his old wardrobe in the first place. He agreed that avoiding behaviors that alienated him from his quote end quote “peers” was important for business but he had never been the kind of man who took restrictions to his freedom with any manner of grace. He was a McDuck, and his family’s temperamental nature beat a tattoo the likes of which no musical instrument heard by mortal ears could triumph over roared through his veins. The idea of some overgrown child getting their knickers in a bunch over his clothes of all things would be hilarious if the rumors didn’t bother Bentina. 

He was not an unfeeling man, not when it came to people he cared for, and he did not want to open his housekeeper up to public scorn. She wasn’t a woman who liked to show emotions other than anger condescension, but she was caring to a fault. 

He caught sight of movement off the corner of his eye and glanced in the woman’s direction and noticed she had set a small tray on his desk. On it was a sturdy but decorative kettle filled with what he presumed was nutmeg tea, and a tiny porcelain teacup he knew was meant for him. 

The fact that he was aware the canards got to her was enough to make him reconsider his actions. Her feelings were not cleanly knitted to the cuffs of her shirt sleeves, and any emotion that surfaced were those deeply felt. He didn’t want those people to make Bentina question whether she was as valuable to him as Duckworth. He could admit the Canid had been his favorite but she was just as important as he had been, and still was, even after death. Deciding the shirt was acceptable he hurled it into the gaping maw of the traveling bag he had propped up against his bedpost. 

The airborne flight of his undershirt was witnessed just in time by Beakley, who had moved from her previous position to watch him once more. He didn't even bother hiding his grin when he saw the dour woman scrunch up her face in a perfect picture of exaggerated disgust and knew the next time he opened his bag to present them to the tailor, the garments inside would be folded, and iron pressed to perfection. It was important to her that her employer was presentable. She rolled her eyes at his juvenile show of mirth and fetched the porcelain cup. To his surprise, he realized she had filled it with tea while he wasn’t looking. She passed the tea to him silently, which he accepted it with a nod of thanks. He had then gone back to checking the threads to decide which were the least threadbare. 

He had a three pile system. Undergarments that were perfectly usable or ragged suits that had too many memories attached to them to discard were tossed into his pack. He’d check it once more before he had Launchpad deliver them to his tailor. Usable clothing in no need of repair went into the second pile, and he’d toss them back into his closet at his convenience. Or Beakley would do the work for him. Whichever came first. Those that didn’t pass either requirement were thrown into the rejection pile. 

In the case of outfits without sentimental value, if the cost of repair was greater than simply purchasing a new suit than he would be donating the garment to Beakley to reuse as she saw fit. Usually, they became rags or were remade into her granddaughter’s clothing. 

He looked up from his task when said housekeeper cleared her throat. 

“Because," She said finally answering his question. "Mr. Khan will spend large quantities of his own money for a worthy social cause.” She had raised an eyebrow as she stared down at her employer. She didn’t need to say the words for him to understand the barb buried within her statement. Scrooge McDuck had proven himself incapable of releasing his death grip on his wealth for anything less than a family emergency on more than one occasion. 

What he didn't know was that if it weren’t for those moments where he proved himself capable of consideration beyond whichever polish worked best with his coinery Beakley would have left for clearer pastures the fifth time he had asked her to reuse the same tea bag. 

“Oh come off it,” he said with a lazy shrug. “I may have been a bit stingy with the finances in the past, but this time I completely understand how serious my part in this one is.” 

“Indeed.” That single word was laced with enough sarcasm to kill a fully grown elephant. 

He rolled his eyes at her tone. 

“Aye.” Scrooge said a touch defiantly. 

He valued Mrs. Beakley as a person and had never liked it when she called him out. Especially if she did it in such a way that he couldn’t argue with her over it. 

“The safe return of Tippu’s tiger is so important to the government; they’ll be giving me a tax break equal to whatever I spend getting it back.” 

He had checked over the papers with four different lawyers and numerous times himself, and the meaning was clear. They intended to give him a tax deduction equal to everything he spent. This was part of the reason he had unearthed his old box of clothes. He could have gone out and get some new threads, but each of the outfits he’d chosen to mend had memories that made them precious to him. He’d rather use this opportunity to repair them on the government’s dollar than purchase something new. True, he’d build new memories, but he still wanted to preserve what he already had. 

“I see.” She said blandly watching him struggle to fold one of the suits for him before taking mercy on the old man and gently removing the fabric from his hands to fold it for him. 

“So, the only reason you’ve taken this assignment seriously is what you’ll get in return for your compliance.” She knelt down to place the folded suit into his bag, the dichotomy between that one folded garment and the casually tossed undergarments surrounding it made her hands itch. It was altogether too disorganized for her liking and planned on sorting it properly once Mr. McDuck had left. 

“You say that like I shouldn’t expect compensation for my trouble.” He said, arching an eyebrow at her caustically worded summation. 

She shook her head and frowned at him. 

“Sir, it’s not a question of money,” she said, her voice soft. “What concerns me is that this artifact was stolen by FOWL.” 

She stopped, and he cocked his head to the side to observe the sullen look that had come over her face. 

“I know they stole it.” 

He said the words more to break the uncomfortable silence that had come over them than anything else. 

“They’re also putting it up for auction so as long as everyone does their job and hands over the money afterward, it’ll be fine.” 

Regardless of what he said to her they both knew he fully intended to let Khan “win” the bid. He had never been a fan of shouting out his hard-earned dollars as if they meant nothing to him. In his adventures there were only a few handful of places that could strike even half as much anxiety into his soul as the average auction house. 

“it’s not as if we’ll be expected to engage them in combat.” 

He said the words then flinched at the fiery look she gave him. He had recognized he had said the wrong thing the moment her head snapped back to heatedly glare at him so quickly he felt a sense of vertigo just looking at her. 

“That’s exactly the problem.” 

Her voice was emotionless, but it burrowed itself more effectively into his feathers than if she had shouted. 

“We don’t know that.” 

She straightened her spectacles out of habit. 

“They may intend to walk away with both the artifact and the winner’s money.” 

He frowned at her. 

“I had considered that possibility.” 

He said, protesting the idea that he wouldn’t. If he was part of an international criminal organization that needed money to conduct their operations, it was something he might have thought of attempting the same thing himself. 

“But we make an excellent team.” 

He reminded her. He knew the thought would have ultimately been dismissed because adventuring was in his blood and if he were a criminal he doubted would have been all that different. Same motivations, fewer morals. He'd have felt his talents wasted fleecing millionaires out of their money.

“If they try, we’ll teach them a lesson they shan’t soon be forgetting.” His voice was determined. "And then sometime around April, you and I can enjoy a little compensation for our trouble."

He had faith the two of them together would be enough to put a stop to FOWL’s machinations. However, he wasn’t completely overlooking the possibility that they might be successful. It was just another reason to foot Khan with the bill. If Scrooge won the bid and FOWL got away despite their careful planning, he didn’t think his temper would let him quietly accept whatever technicalities the government attempted to use to back out of their responsibilities. Khan’s reputation was not a favorable one. He did business with many an unsavory character, but conversely, Scrooge knew, the man would be far more patient with the powers that were. He doubted the other businessman would accept their excuses any more than he would, but his temperament allowed him the patience to wait longer for a delinquent payment to be settled. If word of him was in any way true, by hook or by crook, he would find a way to make them reimburse him for anything lost eventually. The Tiger would be useful. He could grudgingly admit that to himself in the private secrecy of his own mind. He still didn’t have to like the thought of working with him. 

“I would much prefer you were taking this case more seriously due to the danger it represents to your life than whether the assignment is tax deductible .” 

He bit his lower beak to prevent himself from saying anything he might have regretted. He was more than a little jealous of her ability to convey deep emotions without the need to change anything about her demeanor. 

“Our.” He said finally. 

“What?” She asked. His voice had been so soft she had not been able to hear him. 

“You said my life would be in danger.” He said, serious as the grave. “I'm not the only one going; you’re coming with me.” 

She raised her eyebrows at the statement, and he cocked his chin upwards in an implicit challenge. 

“I know you still have a few doubts about my safety whenever FOWL is involved,” he said words fierce but comforting. “it’s natural considering I’m a civilian while you were trained to combat these people, but you know me.” 

He didn’t know if that worked in his favor or not. He had embarrassed himself in front of her on more occasions than he could count and if he focused on them too long, he was in danger of giving himself quite the blow to his own ego. 

“You know what I’m capable of.” 

He said moving from the bed to grasp her arm. he fervently hoped he sounded inspiring and that she wasn’t thinking about that time she’d watched him try to put on his deep water diving equipment for the first time in years and how the unexpected weight of his helmet had hit him with enough unexpected weight he'd been bent over so badly he’d been left dragging his own head helplessly across the floor. 

“And together, we can do this.” 

He met her uncertain eyes with his own steadily, until she nodded, finally convinced. 

The silence stretched between them after that. Both were at a loss for words.

“So, now that we’ve addressed that issue” He coughed trying to fill a room with some small bit of noise after the awkward stillness his pep talk had left. “Could you help me look for that invite?” 

He chuckled shortly after giving the place a look over. 

“I seem to have misplaced it.” 

It was a lie, and one he instantly regretted making, but he had needed to say something to make everything else feel less off kilter. He really needed to work on his pep talks. Years without anyone who wanted them had left him out of practice. If Beakley had any less self-control he knew she would have groaned, as it was, she merely sighed. 

“Have you checked your left pocket, sir?” She asked patiently. “I believe I saw you place it there while we were driven home.” 

He remembered that ride. The agents had seen fit to have him blindfolded during the entire meeting, and he had been forced to rely on Beakley to act as his eyes. It had been an uncomfortable situation that he’d been eager to end as soon as possible. He didn’t like operating without all his senses. He trusted his housekeeper and friend with his life, but she was not a suitable substitute for his eyesight. He had been relieved to exit the government car to see his own home before him. He couldn’t recall a time in recent memory that it had looked half as welcoming. 

“My pocket?” 

He asked as if only just realizing this was a possibility. Knowing that was where it was he made a show of discovering it that he believed fooled absolutely no one.

“Ah-ha!“

He exclaimed to the room and pulled out the invitation he had received to board the blimp that was being used for this particular auction. 

"Here it is!” 

He smiled up at her. 

“I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this, bless your memory Mrs. Beakley!” 

He hoped his voice wasn’t too cheerful, but his instincts informed him that she had in no way bought the act. 

“Glad to be of service, sir.” She said in a flat tone that said she was in no way amused by his antics. “Well, I’ll just be off to the kitchen preparing dinner for your family to eat upon their return from the Junior Woodchucks meet and greet.” 

She could tell he was uncomfortable. 

So with that statement, she alerted him that she intended to depart, telling him what she would be doing and where she could be found if he needed her. 

“Excellent.” He said shortly, kicking himself mentally for making her feel the need to put distance between them as they both knew that with the exception of Huey his family would have gorged themselves entirely on the free cookies that the Woodchucks provided for the attendees.

“I’ll see you at supper then.” 

She nodded, taking his words as a dismissal and she was gone. Leaving the tea tray as the only evidence that she had been with him at all. 

He went back to the bed and sat down heavily. Interaction with other people should not be so difficult. He picked up one of his red overcoats and upon seeing the tear in the material threw it with more force than necessary into the rejection pile. The hurried sorting set off a hurricane of movement in the old duck which continued until there was nothing left. Feeling better after the flurry activity he slumped on the bed and allowed himself a small moment for himself, to just staring up at the ceiling to wonder why his many years of life had not made him better with people. It had only ever been those who steadfastly stayed with him despite himself who remained at his side, and he was more grateful for them than he could say. He got up then, his schedule far too busy for an unscheduled bout of self-pity and made a call to vultures up at his corporate offices so he could haggle with them on their concerns regarding his company’s expenditures over tea. 

Unbeknownst to him, he had been spied on by a small excited duckling who had convinced his Uncle Donald that he was simply too sick to go to the meeting. 

Things had been slow on the adventure side of family life, and he’d had a feeling old Scrooge was holding out on them Having heard enough to confirm his suspicions he was hurriedly moving to escape the cramped vents, coloring the blue of his shirt with gray dust. 

When Webby and his brothers returned, he had some news he knew would get their attention.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this. Thank you. This is my first chaptered fic and by golly, the anxiety is getting to me. Hopefully, it doesn't suck but I make no promises.


End file.
